


Cooking is NOT a Force Power

by silvergryphon



Series: Black and Gold Verse [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Gen, culinary shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 09:25:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvergryphon/pseuds/silvergryphon
Summary: Naroko makes dinner.It does not go well.





	Cooking is NOT a Force Power

Cooking is NOT a Force Power

 

 

Naroko set down the serving dish of nerf medallions on the table. "Enjoy!" she said brightly, tossing her Padawan braid over her shoulder. "I have to go take care of the sponge cakes, so go ahead and start without me."

ObiWan eyed the platter uncertainly as she left. "Are they supposed to be that color?" he asked QuiGon dubiously. "They are a bit on the blackened side..."

"I'm sure Naroko knows what she is doing," QuiGon said, even though his expression wasn't entirely assured in and of itself.

The fifteen-year old Alderaanian girl stuck her head back into the dining room. "What are you waiting for? Serve yourselves!" Contrary to her eager instructions, portions of meat flew off the platter and landed on plates.

Rinar carefully sniffed her serving, snorted, and jerked her head back on her serpentine neck. "It looks lovely, _jekesha_ ," she said. The saurian Jedi's words seemed a bit forced. Naroko, oblivious to her Master's strained words, grinned happily and darted back into the kitchen.

ObiWan poked at his nerf experimentally. "Master, I'm not certain this is nerf," he said in an undertone.

"What makes you say that?"

"I think it moved."

QuiGon looked down at his plate. "Perhaps the salad will be better." He bit experimentally into a bright green leaf and sneezed loudly. Eyes watering, he mouthed, "Hot!"

ObiWan and Rinar carefully picked similar green leaves from their salads and set them aside. Actually, ObiWan's salad greens didn't stop at the edge of his plate. He surreptitiously began flicking the leaves into the large flower arrangement in the middle of the table.

"ObiWan!" QuiGon hissed. Rinar wuffed at him, forcing air through the sound chambers in her reptilian muzzle. Then she sampled the alleged nerf, gagged, and spat out her mouthful.

"That bad?" QuiGon whispered. Rinar bobbed her head and began flicking bits of meat off her plate with her claw.

"You have no idea," she said.

QuiGon, still always willing to support his friend's Padawan's excursions into the realm of the culinary arts, resolutely poked his fork into a pile of UMT- Unidentified Mashed Tubers- and took a bite.

The Jedi Master gagged quietly, but he forced himself to swallow as Naroko stuck her head back in.

"How is everything?" she asked.

"Wonderful," ObiWan forced out, eyes watering.

Naroko vanished back into the kitchen, beaming. Rinar handed her friend the water pitcher. He accepted it gratefully and took several gulps to rinse out his mouth.

"I can't believe you actually swallowed that, my old friend," she said.

"Neither can I."

ObiWan glanced around, then tipped the contents of his plate into the flower arrangement. His Master one-upped him- several bits of meat and tuber flew into the overhead light fixture.

Rinar stood up, walked over to the window, and upended her dish out of it. A few unlucky passers-by screamed curses up at her.

"Fortunately, hawk-bats will eat more than just granite slugs." The saurian sat back down again.

Naroko brought in a tray of yellow-green cakes covered with a lurid blue syrup, sat down, and filled her plate with her own handiwork. Her friends exchanged worried glances as she took a bite.

The Alderaani's dark, almond-shaped eyes flew open as she gagged.

"Kelric's blade!" she squeaked, and coughed. "You _ate_ this? What in the Nine Sith Hells is _wrong_ with you people?

 

~Fin

 

**Author's Note:**

> So a friend of mine from high school sent me back some notebooks with stuff I'd written back in my teens. Most of it is cringe-worthy, but I recovered this gem. Naroko's stunning inability to cook has been a running joke for over THIRTEEN YEARS now, and this is where it began.


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